


dance with me

by harinezumi_kun



Series: the boy next door [3]
Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Comedy, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-01
Updated: 2010-08-01
Packaged: 2017-11-08 07:09:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/440516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harinezumi_kun/pseuds/harinezumi_kun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>did you know ohno has a dance studio?</p>
            </blockquote>





	dance with me

Nino is attempting to enjoy a noontime breakfast of Cheerios when Jun walks in looking far too pleased with himself.

“Did you know,” Jun says, with a gloating smirk that says ‘I know something you don’t’, “that Ohno-san has a dance studio?”

Nino takes an immense amount of satisfaction in wiping away Jun’s grin when he says sweetly, “Why, yes. Yes, I did.”

He had found out by accident, only a week ago. 

His original intention in going to Ohno’s house had been to commandeer his home theater, but once he got through the front door, he noticed something odd. There was a beat, low and steady, coming from somewhere. Nino dropped his gaming equipment off in the den, then followed the sound deeper into the house, until he came to a room he’d never seen before. 

The door was thick, and though the sound was louder here, it was still muffled. Music, he realized. Nino had always thought this was some kind of storage room, and reached curiously for the handle. For a flickering second, he paused, thinking that maybe he had finally found the limit, the line he was not allowed to cross, something Ohno didn’t want to share. After a moment of indecision, he pressed down on the handle.

Unlocked. He pulled the door open.

Music poured out, wrapped around him, a heavy beat and electric techno sounds. Most of the walls were floor to ceiling mirrors, and Ohno was in the middle of the room, reflected back over and over. 

Ohno was dancing. Nino couldn’t look away.

Ohno moved with a fluid grace that made it hard to believe he spent most of his time shuffling around, barely picking his feet up off the floor. His movements followed the beat unerringly—sharp turns, limbs snapping up and out, then back down, hips twisting in ways that made Nino’s pulse speed up. 

And the look on Ohno’s face was one that Nino had never seen before. Different from his usual sleepy stare, different even from the startling focus he achieved when he was painting, this look was sharp and distant all at once, completely here and totally gone. Like he was all alone in his own body.

Then, after another heart-stopping spin, Ohno caught sight of Nino. He didn’t look at all surprised to see him, and without breaking his rhythm, he raised a hand and crooked a finger.

_Dance with me._

Nino felt the gesture almost like a physical pull, but forced himself to hold his ground, shaking his head. He couldn’t dance. He had never danced in his life. 

Ohno just smiled, slow and predatory, an expression Nino had thought would forever be confined to his imagination. A step, a twist, and then Ohno was striding toward him, still in time with the music, and holding out a hand.

Nino didn’t realize he’d reached out in return until Ohno started pulling him back out onto the floor.

And somehow, it was easy. Ohno led with the same grace as dancing alone—a hand on Nino’s hip, or low on his back, or sliding down his arm, to tell him where and how to move. Ohno adjusted his steps to make them easier to follow, gave Nino time to see what he was doing before trying it himself. Nino knew he was hardly adding anything to Ohno’s performance, was barely able to keep up at all, but somehow that here-and-gone look in Ohno’s eyes had crept into Nino’s bloodstream as soon as they had touched. He forgot that anything existed outside of this room, the pulsing music, the man in front of him.

For a time, they danced with Nino’s back pressed to Ohno’s chest, but as the song ended, Ohno turned him, sudden and shocking, so they were face to face and only inches apart when the final note faded.

With the music gone, Ohno seemed to come back to himself. He blinked slowly a few times, smiled again—but this was small and shy—and stepped away.

“Sorry,” he muttered, scrubbing a hand through sweaty hair. “Got carried away.”

“Yeah,” Nino answered weakly. His heartbeat was still embarrassingly fast.

Ohno wandered away, over to a water bottle and a towel left in the corner of the room. Nino followed a few steps behind, unable to shake the feeling that he had fallen asleep and couldn’t quite wake up.

“So,” he said, in an effort to regain some sense of normalcy, “you’re an artist, and a dancer. Do you sing, too?”

“Um. Yeah, actually,” Ohno confessed, with a faint flush of embarrassment.

Nino just laughed. “Is there anything you _can’t_ do?”

“Yeah,” Ohno said to the floor, “I can’t—” But he cut himself off suddenly, and headed for the door. “Never mind.”

Any other time, Nino probably would have asked, but he was still too dazed to do anything but follow Ohno back out to the living room.

“Well? Oi, Earth to Nino!”

Jun’s voice pulls Nino out of his reverie and back into the present. Jun is standing on the other side of the kitchen table with arms crossed and one eyebrow raised.

“What?” Nino asks irritably.

“I said: have you slept with him yet?”

“ _What?_ ”

“Oh, come on,” Jun says, dropping into the chair opposite Nino. “You’re completely obsessed—fixated, like Sho said.”

“Am not,” Nino returns, flicking a Cheerio at Jun’s face. “He just has a big house and lots of nice stuff.”

“You know what they say about guys with big houses,” Aiba trills from the doorway, entering with Sho on his heels.

“Big mortgage payments?” Sho offers, and they exchange overly-amused grins before bursting into laughter.

“Oh my god,” Jun says into his hands. “Do you guys _practice_ being complete dorks or does it just come naturally?”

“Do you practice being a complete diva,” Nino begins, but Jun throws his Cheerio back at him with frighteningly good aim, almost choking him.

“Anyway,” Sho says loudly, before any more projectiles are launched, “Jun’s right, Nino, you’re practically living at Satoshi-kun’s house. You might as well take care of some of that sexual tension.”

“Yeah, because I need love advice from you, Mom,” Nino growls.

“Someone has to keep this place clean,” Sho mutters, at the same time as Jun says: “And when was the last time you got laid?”

“None of your business,” Nino says, knowing it’s the worst possible answer to give, and hating Jun’s triumphant little smirk.

“We could have a party,” Aiba gasps, re-emerging from the cupboard with a bag of shrimp crackers. “And we could do, like, Spin the Bottle and Seven Minutes In Heaven!”

“No.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Pervert.”

“Whaaat?” Aiba protests. “I thought it was a great idea.”

Nino finds he has no more appetite for his breakfast, and pushes his bowl away. “I’m leaving,” he announces.

“Going to Ohno’s,” Jun says matter-of-factly.

“Going to confess!” Aiba declares.

“I am not!” Nino shouts without looking back. “I’m going to…to borrow a cup of sugar, dammit. That’s what neighbors do, right?”

As the front door closes behind him, he can hear Aiba saying “But we have sugar…”

*

Ohno looks surprised when he opens the front door, and not without reason—it’s been months since Nino’s actually used the doorbell instead of just walking into the house.

“Hey neighbor,” Nino says brightly. “Can I bother you for a cup of sugar?”

“Sugar…?” Ohno says slowly.

“Never mind,” Nino sighs, stepping closer to hold open the door. “Bad joke, been spending too much time with Sho and Aiba.”

Ohno’s brows furrow, and he steps aside, motioning for Nino to come inside, but the younger man just shakes his head.

“Listen, Oh-chan, I—” But he stops, wimps out, changes tacks midsentence. “The other day,” he says instead, “when I asked if there was anything you can’t do…what were you going to say?”

Ohno’s eyes widen a little, and Nino doesn’t even know why he asked that. But he sees a blush starting high on Ohno’s cheeks and is suddenly very interested in the answer.

“Um,” Ohno says. He’s staring at Nino, looking slightly panicked. Or maybe like he’s daring himself to say it, just _say it_.

“I was—” He licks his lips, takes a tiny step forward. “I was going to say that I can’t—”

Nino finds that for some reason, he’s holding his breath. “What?”

“I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Nino feels the breath leave him in a rush, and his face is suddenly very hot. “Oh,” he manages, faintly.

Ohno steps a little closer, and Nino sees him swallow hard. The sight of muscles shifting under skin, the sudden realization of Ohno’s proximity, seems to restart Nino’s brain and he steps through the doorway.

“So,” he says, as the door swings shut behind him, “when you say you can’t stop thinking about me, what exactly…”

But he trails off, because Ohno is already crowding into his space, his gaze has shifted down to Nino’s mouth, and then Nino’s back is against the door. His breath is coming too fast, echoing back to him in the quickly shrinking space between them.

“This,” Ohno breathes, maybe an answer to Nino’s question or maybe just a statement, a confirmation, but Nino doesn’t care anymore because suddenly Ohno is kissing him, pressing him back into the door and demanding a response. Nino is happy to comply.

He winds his arms around Ohno’s neck, tilts his head, and opens his mouth wide and inviting. Ohno’s tongue darts in eagerly and—shit, he’s a really good kisser. Nino takes back every mean thing he ever said to Sho. The man is a genius, he was definitely right about relieving the sexual tension, it really is a very good idea.

Eventually they have to part for air, and in between shuddering gasps, Ohno leans in to whisper right next to Nino’s ear.

“Did you know,” he says, and Nino can hear him smiling, “that I have a water bed?”

As Ohno leads him away by the wrist, Nino laughs breathlessly.

“I am _so_ moving in.” 

 

=Omake=

As it turns out, the water bed makes Nino seasick.

Happily, there is also a king-sized feather bed in the guest room.

=Omake 2=

“He’s never coming back, is he?” Aiba sighs, hours later, looking at the lonely groove in the couch that usually houses Nino’s butt while he plays video games.

“He has to come back,” Jun says. “He left his Wii.”

“But the PS3 is at Ohno’s house! It could be weeks!”


End file.
